As time passes, my journey through grief transforms me. I discover I am not the same. My writing progresses with me though the changing seasons. ​​(Visit my Pathways page for earlier grief journey writings.)

What do you see in this picture of a broken mug? I barely need to add a word about it, because it speaks for itself.

But, about the mug. It belonged to my daughter. How much more cheerful can you get as a teacher than to have this mug brightening your classroom! Since she’s been gone, this bright yellow mug has been smiling at me from a shelf in the room where I sit and write. The other day, I accidentally overloaded the shelf above it, and the shelf came crashing down off the wall. The only thing broken in the fall was this mug. I picked up the pieces intending to throw it away. Of course. Why would I keep a broken mug? I put the broken pieces inside the mug, set it aside, and continued picking up the rest of the fallen items.

After getting everything picked up, I looked at the mug smiling at me from the shelf. No, I decided then and there. I’m not throwing that mug away. I’m going to glue the pieces back together and keep it, because I see the metaphor. Do you? Broken, but, still smiling. Need I say more?

This reminds me of a time when my children were young and they tore through the narrow kitchen and knocked a precious pottery utensil holder sculpted and fired by someone we knew, and it broke into multiple pieces. I was angry with them and we glued it back together. What really lasted about that? My memory of losing my temper. I still have the glued pottery utensil container on my counter that I never even think about as having been damaged. How often have I looked back on things I said in the heat of the moment and immediately regretted them. "Least said, soonest mended" is a saying I heard that I try to remember now when I'm tempted.